Afternoon Poem, February 21, 2015

A storm is coming, she says.

This one’s no picnic,

Wet snow, the heavy stuff

It’ll break trees and power lines

You know the kind.

The roads will be a mess

Good thing I went to the store already

Good thing we’ve got a gas stove.

I bring in another armfull of dry oak

Look at the western sky and smile.

Copyright 2015

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